I’ve learned that no matter how greasy things get, or how many Schneider eggs there are on the big road, if you keep on the downstroke, life will provide a sandbox in the short-short.
I’ve learned that you can dig out a hard ankle by the way they motor on when they’re beating the bushes on a window washer, got a bubble-gumming organ donor on their back door, or are getting bit by a paper-hanger.
I’ve learned that even when I’m feeding the bears or get bit by an alligator, I don’t have to be a gear jammer at the front door.
I’ve learned that every day you should key up a happy-happy for a Bubba. A holler or how ’bout can be as good as a west coast turnaround, and a cost-free lumper sure beats a fingerprint.
Lastly, I’ve learned that a driver will sandbag a Billy Big Rig in a rooster cruiser and crackerheads won’t eyeball a flip-flop, but with a good neighbor in your back pocket, life can be a Georgia overdrive.

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